PSOH Pet Shop Perpetual
by tigersilver
Summary: AU; It's a long, hard haul to track down the mysterious Count D, but Leon Orcot, it seems, has no choice in the matter.
1. Chapter 1

**PSOH PET SHOP PERPETUAL Chapter 1**

Orcot shifted from one foot to the other, his legs stiff from the wait. His pocket chittered inquiringly. Leon patted it for reassurance and slipped in some more sunflower seeds. It was still a little chilly, even standing out of the wind in the thin early morning sunshine, and he and the little guy were getting cold. The white cardboard box in his other hand tilted precariously within its cage of string and he shifted again to keep it steady, leaning back against the wooden shop wall behind him. There'd be hell to pay if the cakes were damaged. The Count – if it was indeed him behind those wrought iron security gates– wouldn't be happy with a slightly smushed offering. Plus, Leon had waited patiently for nearly an hour very early this morning to get them; he wasn't going to dare ruin them now. They were the best to be had and if he was lucky, he'd need them.

Leon sighed, tucking his chin lower into his jacket to ward off the chill. Early spring in Japan was not a particularly warm place for a stakeout. He sure as hell hoped this was the Pet Shop he was looking for. The minute he'd hit Japan he'd started scouring the streets of Tokyo, searching determinedly for what eluded him every time: the latest incarnation of the Count's Pet Shop. It would damned well kill him if he missed D yet again. In Sydney he'd been only a couple days too late. In Paris, though, there'd been only old, cold rumors to keep him going. New York's Chinatown had been his best lead by far, but the Count had already been long gone by the time Leon had gotten his act together to go look.

When he started thinking back to all places he'd been, all in vain, it seemed like one hell of a long time since he'd left the US. Years. Ages. If he'd been with D this whole thing might of been kinda fun, but no, it wasn't; he was still separated by some unknowable distance from the one he wanted. Still, here he was, once again patiently waiting in front of yet another possible pet shop in yet another Chinatown.

It wasn't like he had a choice.

Leon had come out of the hospital drained and empty, a 'mere shadow of his former self.' He'd gone back to work still in zombie mode, steadfastly trying to put his Pet Shop days behind him and bury himself in work, but…the thrill of the chase was gone. He'd lost the spark, the conviction that he was on the side of justice. All that had been bright and clear had gone grey, dingy and careworn, like his apartment, like his heart. Work was dreary, food was tasteless and he couldn't sleep. Nothing truly roused him from his deepening depression, not even Chris's weekly phone calls. Even copious amounts of alcohol couldn't dull the pain of D's final rejection, the one he'd never even had a chance to argue. D's mask had remained in place till the very end – Leon must have only imagined the tears. He'd been dumped, anyway - literally, figuratively, in every way that mattered.

The D-shaped hole in his heart gaped wider as the days dragged on, till Leon thought he could feel the wind in the alleys whistling through him. He felt transparent, as though his spirit really had departed with D. He grew thinner and gaunter and sharp-edged, till Jill took to bringing him food as well as coffee in the morning. Leon vaguely appreciated the gesture but the sight of Danish and doughnuts killed his weak appetite entirely. _It was not the same, it would never be_. He wanted strawberry _tartes_ and cheesecake and Earl Grey tea in thin painted porcelain cups, all meant to be consumed while sitting opposite a beautiful Chinese man in a dress -- if only he could taste them again. But he couldn't even dream of the possibility of seeing D once more. What if the Count turned away yet again, disgusted? Leon couldn't help being human. He ate meat, and killed people for a living and worst of all, he'd been the one to kill D's father. How could the Count ever forgive that?

Nearly six months passed before Leon bottomed out and began the slow crawl back up. Six months wasted before he'd figured out finally what he needed to do. Pining away wasn't cutting it. He wasn't the kind of guy who could sit still and die of a broken heart. He was still Detective Leon Orcot, his mother's son, and he could not give up, not just yet.

On that note, he'd called Chris, told him he was coming to New York, ready to start his search for D. Chris had been supportive but he hadn't really understood why Leon was suddenly so frantic. All Chris had been told was that the Count had gone on a long trip. Leon couldn't explain it all to an eight-year-old, even a really perceptive one. His own decision had been a lightning strike, a perfect wave on a flat ocean, the first positive thing he'd felt in longer than he could remember. Of course, it was purely a hunch, as Leon wasn't actually sure that the Count could be found. Maybe he'd retired, gone into hiding with only his animals. Maybe he'd found some other nosy policeman to watch over him. Maybe he'd _moved on_, returned to the dream world that Leon could never hope to enter by himself. Whatever, he had _gone_; it hurt constantly to be without him and in all his useless soul-searching, Leon had come up with only one cure.

In New York City, Orcott continued in the force. It was familiar, he knew what to do and he could get by. LAPD, NYPD – it no longer made a difference as long as he could use his police connections to locate D. He'd transferred there in early spring with a good word from his boss and started his search the moment he got off the plane. Within a few short weeks he knew he wasn't going to find D there. Oh, he'd located the Shop alright, but there was old Chinese guy running it, a squat tubby man with droopy mustaches who seemed vaguely familiar. And, yes, the NYPD did have a few records of odd incidents involving exotic and recalcitrant pets but there was very little else official to go on. The only odd thing was the lack of fatalities. Then again, D was not his father, so Leon figured it made sense.

Leon started using his hard-won detective skills then. He hunted down the Count's pet-owners and grilled them gently for information, but to no avail. He checked out the zoos and the museums and then went to every single bakery in the city and all the boroughs. He visited every Chinese dentist he could find and kept surveillance on the pretty ones, especially the two who favored leather in their off hours. He hung out in Chinatown for months, asking around, nosing out the locals who had known D. He ate there and shopped there and even got a room to rent right on the outskirts. Eventually it paid off - the Chinese shop owners ceased viewing him as a threat and a kook and he finally got hold of his first real information in what seemed a very long time.

A couple of the Shop's neighbors had known the Count a little, at least in passing. They remembered odd scraps of conversation, along with the Count's penchant for sweets. The Count had been disappointed – he'd been looking for some rare animal and New York had not panned out. So D had gone – _where_? Some other large city, they thought, some place that might be more fruitful. London, maybe? Paris? Beijing? The various shop keepers weren't sure, but they agreed those were all good possibilities. One thing was certain, though: the trail in NYC was stone cold – it had taken 8 months altogether to get even this far. The only course left was to search outside the U.S. – leave his job, his country, his brother, all that was familiar. Leon considered long and hard but there was never really a choice. Yes, being a cop was important, but finding D was more so. There was no question that he would follow -- it was only a question of _how_.

So he'd quit without a single regret. He sent Chris his stuff, except the drawing his little brother had done so long ago. It was Leon's _family_ that Chris had captured in his child's sketch. It was the one thing he carried everywhere, the one thing that had given him any hope at all. D was smiling…not the fake one, either, but something loving and warm. Even captured in a child's scrawl it was the most precious thing Leon owned.

Leon debated back and forth – keep it or send it to Chris. After all, he really didn't need the actual image at this point; it was already burned in his heart. Chris, well, he might be the one who'd need it more. Especially if Leon didn't come back. He knew his search would not be easy; that it might even be dangerous, but it had been with a glad heart he made his decision. He could not stay in the good ol' USA if the Count was out there somewhere. He could not turn back to what he had been before.

Fortune smiled and Leon landed the job he was hoping for - a security gig with the largest import/export company in Chinatown -- and hopped a cargo ship as a guard as soon as he decently could. He ended up keeping the drawing, though. Maybe the Count might want it back someday - it might be his ticket in the door.

The job with Sing's took him all over the world. He'd been to Sydney twice, Taiwan at least five times and the port cities of Europe more often than he could count in the year and some he'd been doing this job. Every time he was ashore he'd search frantically. There was always a Chinatown, always a pet shop, but never the right one. He'd ended up concentrating on the major cities, travelling farther inland when he had to so he could check out places like Munich and Paris. He was positive D would never settle anywhere but a major metropolis, if only for the bakeries. The Count was creature who thrived in a big city. But there were so many possibilities, it was staggering. Orcot hadn't gotten to Cairo or Rio de Janiero yet. The Count could be in Istanbul or Moscow and he hadn't managed to get to those places either. It could take years.

Fucking years.


	2. Chapter 2

**PSOH Pet Shop Perpetual Chapter 2**

Of course, in Sydney he'd picked up Hamlin, the dwarf hamster whose utter cuteness belayed his nasty habit of biting unwary fingers and voraciously sucking blood. Leon regarded it as his first sign that he was even close to finding the Count and it had been purely serendipity. Orcot had been simply standing there outside the Count's barred shop, cursing the fates that had delayed him from finding D's latest hangout just one day sooner, when an irate Australian parent arrived, clutching a little plastic cage. The woman was incensed; her precious son had been bitten severely when he poked his probing fingers in the hamster's miniature Tiki hut. Worse yet, the kid had woken screaming with nightmares every night, begging and sobbing for 'it' to 'get away.' Orcot immediately recognized the Count's handiwork, wondering what sort of issues the tyke had that prompted D to land him with such a pet. Bully, maybe? Whatever. Hamlin was cute for a rodent and he was company, something Leon sorely missed. Nights on the cargo ships were lonely and he himself was plagued with nightmares. After he took Hamlin in, it got better. There were even good dreams, ones that left him hot and bothered in the morning but happy and full of hope.

Tokyo was a more likely choice than some of the cities he'd visited. The Count was Chinese. He could probably speak Japanese. Leon had picked up bits and pieces of the language here and there, from the sailors and in the ports, enough to help him find a cheap hotel and some information about the city, enough to get around. The blonde guy and his Japanese friend at the bar last night had helped as well. The man was probably an ex-patriot and maybe even a New Yorker; he spoke English so fluently. His buddy Okamura knew all bakeries, oddly enough, and had recommended the one called Antique when Leon said he needed a really stellar one. They couldn't help with the pet shops, but at least he'd gotten a better idea of where to look for the price of a few beers. He had tried any number of pet shops yesterday and the one before him now was one of the last left on his list. It was the most likely yet, he had thought when he came upon it yesterday evening, well after closing. But he could not read the sign and the ship sailed in less than 48 hours. Time was running out.

He checked his watch, a present from his aunt and uncle, given when they'd 'stopped by' the Christmas Chris lived with the Count. It was almost 8 am, and with luck the pet shop would open soon. The Count had always been an early riser. Leon wasn't as relaxed as he'd been when he had first arrived here a couple of hours ago, offering in hand, hamster in pocket. His breathing was noticeably faster now and he could feel his pulse quickening. It was hope, he knew, and the fear of disappointment. It happened every time he thought he might have finally found the Count. He remembered odd things at times like these, flashes of images and warmth that left him hungry for more. His mind skittered nervously away from them as he tried to think of what he might say to the man he'd been seeking for so long. It was enough that he knew why he was here – he didn't have to actually think about it.

The street was coming alive with morning shoppers. The soba shop served yet another customer and the bell rang constantly on the swinging shop door of the convenience store next to that. More people were out and about, after the lull in the commuter rush, and the sidewalk was getting crowded. Shuffled by the growing crowd from his safe harbor behind the welcome banners of the soba shop, Leon nearly missed the sight of the wrought-iron safety gate swinging open across the street. There was a man there, in Asian garb, dark hair, the right height and build. He slipped back inside the shop before Orcot got a really good look, but the glimpse left Leon weak with relief.

Leon made his across the street, hands shaking, the box rattling a little from the movement. He tried to remember how to breathe normally. Hamlin caught his nervousness and began to chirrup in Leon's pocket, poking his little head out to see what was going on. Leon took deep breaths, tucked the cake box firmly under one arm and then reached out for the door handle, an ornate brass one shaped like a lion's head. His palm slipped a little with sweat as he turned it. The carved wooden door opened too easily, bells jangling madly as Leon inadvertently swung it wide. With a lurch, he stumbled through the door into a 19th century Oriental boudoir, stuffed to the gills with potted palm trees and large porcelain vases, tasseled silk hangings and wicker whatnots.

Leon blinked in the dimmer light inside, cursing a little under his breath at the bells still clanging. Yup, it was the same – thank god, thank god! – the same faint sweet scent he remembered, the same crowded and subtly well-used opulence, even if the furniture was a little different from before. This had to be the right place – no other pet shop was quite like the Count's.

"You tell me I shall meet him soon? What, I wonder, is he like?" an unfamiliar voice was saying. Teacups clinked on saucers a little distance away.

There were two men inside the shop, a tea table between them. The one Leon had seen earlier was seated on a flowered couch, turned away from the door. In a matching armchair that faced the couch sat the other man and he – he was simply incredible. He was truly exotic – there was no other way to describe him. Two tendrils of his waist-length light brown hair hung down his chest, caught at chin level with round golden clasps, and he wore a fancy hat that reminded Leon of a tiara with feathers. His robe was gorgeous, a delicate pale silk painted with flowers and vines, with a brilliant blue silk surcoat over top. His lavender eyes were outlined with kohl and seemed depthless, and his face was exquisite. He was male, though, no doubt about it. Leon was sure of that, even with the get-up and the eyeliner. Leon's eyes widened at the sight of the two in intimate conversation; his first thought was that he was interrupting, and his rude intrusion was made painfully obvious when the fabulous creature turned to look his way, eyebrows raised in faint surprise. The other man turned as well in response to the jingling door bells and Leon forgot his incipient embarrassment, nearly dropping the cake box clutched to his chest.

It was D!

The sight of him filled Leon's entire universe, and there was no room for any other than D.

Leon opened his mouth but no words came out. The beautiful creature opposite him was utterly forgotten; Leon looked only at the Count, easily recognizable now as he turned to face the doorway. It was surreal moment; a scene ripped from one the dreams Leon had after Hamlin came, one of the good ones, when his endless chase had resulted in capture…and D smiling at him again.

The Count had stood hastily in his surprise. His odd eyes locked on Leon's and as he moved a little too swiftly around the sofa, he nearly stumbled. The other man reached out to steady him with great grace, his action entirely unnoticed by both Orcot and D himself as he rapidly crossed to the tiled entryway where Leon stood playing statues.

"Mr. Detective? Leon?"

"D!"

Leon reached out unthinking and once again remembered the cake box just in time. He caught it and offered it wordlessly, drinking in the sight of his elegant Count, clad in a matte black satin tunic and thin silk trousers. A scarlet dragon undulated up D's chest and shoulder, frozen in embroidered threads, and his lips were only a shade darker than the thread. He was beautiful, a wondrous vision for a man left half-alive and starving for so long.

Hamlin trilled, loudly and suddenly, as the Count moved hastily forward to take the bakery box Leon shoved at him and the piercing sound startled the Count further. He pitched forward, just a little too far off-balance, and ended up in Leon's arms, the cake box, now slightly crumpled around the edges, wedged between them like a shield. There was a moment's uncomfortable pause and the slight sound of D catching his breath. Almost immediately D stepped back and Leon let his now empty arms slowly drop to his sides, his heart ricocheting around his chest like an eight ball. D stared at him, silent and now very pale, and the beautiful man Leon had noticed earlier moved swiftly and quietly to stand just behind him, pressing up against D's back. Jealousy clogged Leon's throat as he watched D subtly relax and regain a remnant of his usual smile.

What the fuck was this?


	3. Chapter 3

**PSOH Pet Shop Perpetual Chapter 3**

"Leon, this _is_ a surprise. I never expected to see here in Japan." The Count smiled – the fake one, the one he used to hide behind - and nervously stroked the bakery box. "I see you've brought me something from Antique. Everything they prepare is first-rate_._ You must taste their _choux._ Simply delicious! Please, come and have tea with us." The Count had obviously recovered, even if Leon had not. The beautiful man behind him smiled at politely Leon as well but his lavender eyes were curiously opaque. Leon shivered, uneasy. He hadn't expected this.

The Count waved an airy hand toward the tea table and the sofa, beckoning Leon to sit. Leon stumbled forward stiffly and sullenly, nearly tripping over the beautiful man's hem in the process. He sat down heavily on the couch, disconcerted by this turn-of-events, and then suddenly remembered Hamlin. Opening his pocket flap, he coaxed the curious little brown-and-cream hamster out on his palm. Hamlin sat up, gnawing on the sunflower seed Orcot had thoughtfully given him, and stared at the Count, emitting almost soundless noises of excitement.

"Oh, you've found Hamlin!" the Count positively cooed. "That's wonderful, Leon. I was worried about him, there with that nasty boy. I am so glad he came to you." D leaned over and rubbed a gentle fingertip across the top of Hamlin's little head. The hamster chirruped in return, apparently greeting him.

"I thought so," Leon muttered to himself and took the teacup the Count offered in his other hand. The Count continued to smile in his direction and Leon felt himself growing a little calmer. It was just like it used to be, he thought, sipping tea and trying to figure out how he would juggle Hamlin and the cake plate the Count offered next.

The beautiful man chuckled, obviously amused at Orcot's predicament. Leon's brief calm fled as he focused once again on this potential rival. Just who _was_ this guy? One of D's friends? A pet? A client, maybe? He looked carefully at the two of them, now chatting amiably away, and decided the pretty guy was damned hard to read. He didn't seem quite 'right' and that outfit sure as shit wasn't what you saw on the streets in Tokyo nowadays. Still, the guy was certainly very much at home here. Leon didn't like that one bit but he didn't know how to pry him out of that chair and out the door without pissing off the Count. Stymied and disgruntled, Leon watched the Count yukking it up at pretty boy's remarks until Hamlin ran out of seeds and bit him gently on the forefinger to let him know. Leon quickly balanced the cake plate on his cup and perched Hamlin on his knee, fumbling in the breast pocket of his denim jacket for more. He knew what came next if Hamlin didn't get his seeds and he didn't think D wanted him bleeding all over the furniture. Or maybe he did. Leon wasn't so sure anymore. He wasn't sure of much.

Finally, the Count turned back to him. "Leon, I almost neglected to introduce you. This is Lord Sohki, an honored and recent friend, and Lord Sohki, may I introduce you to Detective Leon Orcot, of the LAPD, come to visit me from America. He is a gentleman renowned for 'getting his man,' as they say in the force."

Lord Sohki smiled and nodded politely in his general direction and Leon's hackles rose. Those emotionless purple eyes gave him the shivers. Just as politely, Leon smiled and nodded in return, but his smile felt more like a rictus creasing his stiff face. '_Lord_' was it? Great, just great. He was just a lowly security guard, with not even a badge to hide behind. No wonder he felt he'd been intruding – this Sohki dude outclassed him 10 times over. The whole situation sucked. It was nothing liked he hoped his meeting with Count would be.

Leon sulked silently for a few minutes longer before he realized he was supposed to check in with Sing's at noon. That was in the Port of Yokohama, so he was more or less screwed if he didn't leave soon. Of course, the office people knew to leave his duffel for him if he didn't return, but still, it would be polite to quit in person. 'Cause he wasn't going back – he wasn't going anywhere, ever again, not now that he'd finally found D.

However, Mr. Fancypants was totally in the way, and it didn't look like he was in a hurry to leave anytime soon. Leon wasn't going to make his check-out if he didn't get a chance to talk to the Count alone.

Oh, and by the way, he was pissed here, and getting more so by the minute. He'd come so fucking far, had gotten used to seasickness and strange food, weathered storms and pirates, all just to see this man, _be with this man_, and here D was, blowing him off with little cakes and tea again, and just hanging on every word Lord Sohki cared to utter. It made him sick. Leon had expected maybe a little more surprise, a few kind words, maybe even a hug. It was weird, he thought, too weird. Not like the Count he knew. Well…it wasn't like he couldn't try to shake it up a little.

"I'm not a cop anymore, Count D," Leon's voice cut across the conversation, loudly, rudely and with the force of a sandbag. He paused for effect. "…and I was certainly _never _what _you'd_ call a_ gentleman_." The Count stiffened and turned his head slowly in Leon's direction. Lord Sohki eyed the rude visitor with his perpetual air of amusement largely unchanged.

"I _see._ And what are you now, Mr. Detective, if you are no longer an officer of the law?" D's tone was quite civil, even passably interested, but it made Leon seethe. He truly hadn't expected this, not from D. Anger, maybe, or perhaps if the gods smiled, the same surge of joy _he'd_ felt, but never this alarmingly polite brush-off. The anger kept a lid on his growing fear, though, so he stoked it a little higher and turned to the secondary offender.

"So, _Lord _Sohki, what is it exactly _you_ do?" Leon leaned forward, depositing his plate with a thunk on the table and raised his brows in inquiry. First things first.

"_Do_? Me? Very little, I must admit." Sohki, too, leaned forward and smiled even more widely at Orcot, who barely bit back a growl. "I am a bit of a playboy, I'd say, a _bon_ _vivant_. And you, Mr. Orcot? You haven't revealed your new career to us yet, have you? I am most curious as to what an ex-officer of the American police would find to occupy his time. You must have gained a profound knowledge of the criminal world, yes? Perhaps you're taking advantage of that knowledge in your new position?"

The Count sat back out of the way and warily watched for Leon's reaction, nervous fingers wrapped tightly around his tea cup. Sohki was a handful. To give him credit, Leon suppressed his instinct to physically wipe the smile off Lord Sohki's face. _Two could play._

"_Me_, Lord Sohki? No, I have to say my job's a hell of a lot more interesting than your common-and garden criminal. I'm a _guard, _Lord Sohki_, _a security guard, licensed and bonded and better paid than I ever was as a cop. Count, you might even call me a _guard dog, _since I have the pleasant and necessary duty of keeping precious things safe from harm, just like your buddy Drehzin." Leon grinned, absentmindedly moved Hamlin to his breast pocket, where the little guy peeped out, watching the action as he nibbled.

"'Course sometimes, Lord Sohki, I have to kill _rats_ and other intruders, anything that might endanger those precious things." He smiled again at Sohki, but it was more a bearing of the teeth. "I find I enjoy it _immensely_."

It was Sohki's turn to sit back, but Leon didn't feel like he'd really routed him. Whatever Sohki was, a mere security guard didn't measure up. It was good it wasn't really Sohki he was trying to rattle.

"And you, Count, what have _you_ been up to since we parted so suddenly?" Leon turned his guns on the real offender, who had the grace to blush faintly.

"A Pet Shop, Leon, as you see." He gestured and Leon took a better look around. It was _odd_ – there were no animals in the room. Not one. He was used to D being surrounded by them. Hell, once they gotten accustomed to Leon in the old Shop he hadn't even been able to move for the cats and rabbits, dogs and reptiles that blithely draped themselves across his lap, his feet, his shoulders. Not to mention the more unusual pets, the ones that he doubted would ever be found anywhere other than storybook and legend. But where were Tetsu and Pon-chan? Where was that damned bat? D's Grandfather wouldn't have abandoned him, surely?

Leon turned back to D, the question written huge on his worried face.

"Where _are_ they, Count? You didn't _sell _them, did you?"

The Count looked blank for a moment and then chuckled, the first genuinely relaxed sound he'd made since Leon arrived. The tension in the room visibly subsided.

"No, no, my dear Detective! I haven't _sold_ them, I assure you. And certainly not my own grandfather! No, you see, everyone who's with me still is in the back of my Shop. I asked them to stay there for the morning. Lord Sohki does not care for all the attention and it is much more comfortable for him to visit me in private."

"Ah, okay." Leon breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a faint pang of sympathy for Sohki. He'd been there, too, especially with that damned goat. "That's good, then. Glad to hear you haven't gotten rid of _all_ your old friends. So, tell me, Count, exactly how long _have_ you been here in Tokyo, D? Since you left Sydney?"

"Yes, I suppose, Detective. Six months or so, I believe." D shrugged, as it were of no importance to start from scratch in whole new location. "You were in Sydney yourself, I assume, as you have my little Hamlin now?"

"Yes, he was a _return_. Fortunately I was around to take him." Leon reached a gentle finger up to stroke his little companion and Hamlin demonstrated his tremendous affection for his human by not biting him.

"And before Sydney, you were London, right? Only a couple of months, though." Leon looked inquiringly toward the Count, who hesitated just before he nodded.

"Paris was real short, not even long enough to open the Shop. Collecting, they told me. And that was right after you left the States. So, that's what, 2 ½, almost three years ago now since you left LA?" D eyed him warily, and eventually agreed. He was not sure he wished to go down the path Leon was leading him, but the question begged to be asked.

"Yes, Detective, that is correct. What _have_ you been doing all this time, tracking me?"

Orcot's lips curled bitterly, his blue eyes arctic. "Indeed I have, Count."

"And now? You are planning to arrest me? I do beg your pardon, Detective, but aren't you a little late?"

"I might just have to arrest you anyway, Count, if you don't cooperate with me now." If the Count were a bird, he would have ruffled his feathers.

"If I may remind you, Detective, you are far from your own jurisdiction. I very much doubt you will be able to harass me here in Japan the way you did in Los Angeles." The Count smirked, but there was tension in the line of his shoulders and set of his red, red mouth.

Len grinned, thinking of that mouth. "I think a simple house arrest will do the trick, D. I'm not asking for more." Squaring his shoulders, he turned to Sohki, who'd been watching the verbal ping-pong, a smile behind his sleeve. Leon cleared his throat to make sure he had the beautiful man's full attention and spoke in his most official cop voice.

"I am afraid I am must ask you to leave now, Lord Sohki. The Count and I have some serious charges to discuss and I'm sure he would prefer privacy." D's annoyed hiss went unremarked as Sohki and Leon exchanged looks.

"Must I?" Sohki opened his violet eyes wide but looked agreeable. "I cannot stay to watch?" Leon shook his head firmly and Sohki sighed with great exaggeration.

Still, he obligingly stood up, gathering his robes around him. His lavender gaze turned full on Leon and the ex-policeman suddenly felt as though his very soul was being examined under a strong microscope. Little violet-blue bolts of lightening hovered in the air around Sohki and Leon could have sworn his dazzled eyes suddenly recognized the image of a fabulous beast . He shook his head in automatic denial and the image dissipated. Sohki blinked slowly at Leon, like a cat who has deigned to approve of the meal before him, and finally nodded. Leon figured he must have passed muster because now Sohki was smiling again and this time his remarkable purple eyes reflected goodwill. Leon found himself bowing, slightly and stiffly, although he wasn't quite sure why. Maybe the guy wasn't so bad, after all.

"I suppose I must," Sohki concurred with himself before turning away to face the flustered Count. Leon clearly heard Sohki's "_I am glad you think so,"_ in his head but he decided to firmly ignore it.

The Count tutted in annoyance, nearly stamping one slippered foot.

"Now, now, Lord Sohki, you don't need to be chased out by this brash young man. _We_ also have things to discuss. The Detective can come back another time."

"Oh, no, my dearest Count. I don't think so. Your young man doesn't look like he'll wait much longer. I do believe your…_discussion_… is long overdue." Lord Sohki clasped the Count's hands, bringing them briefly to his lips. "We will resume this later, hmm?"

Sohki swept out the door with great panache, not forgetting to shut it firmly behind him. Leon was right behind him, closing the gate, turning the lock and pocketing the key in one swift movement. D watched him from his post by the tea table, his face clearly revealing his pique.

"What the hell's with you, D?" asked Leon, advancing across the tiled entryway. "Why the cold shoulder? It's a little rude to shove me out the door when it took so fucking long to find you."

"You assume, Mr. Detective, that I wished to be found." Leon moved closer still and the Count backed up instinctively, the backs of his knees pressed against the armchair so recently occupied by Lord Sohki. He was stiff as a board; the 'company' smile vanished.

"I _assumed_ you'd be happy to see me," Leon bit out, his temper bubbling up. "And not without cause, D! You left a trail of breadcrumbs a blind man could see!"

"I most certainly did not, Leon! I went to great trouble to conceal my whereabouts!" D was trembling now and Leon reached forward to grasp his shoulders, holding him still.

"Not good enough, Count. If I'd moved a little faster, I'd've had you in New York. Or Sydney! It was just a matter of time, D!" D slowly shook his head back and forth, wordlessly denying Leon's assertion.

"Look, you damned well can't deny you left me this!" Leon fumbled in his jean's pocket, dragging out Chris's carefully folded drawing and waving it triumphantly in D's face, all the while gripping D's shoulder with one firm hand to prevent him from twisting away.

"Wh-what? You kept that, Leon? _Why_?" Distracted, D reached out and took it, a fine tremor making his long nails rattle against the paper. Smoothing it out against Leon's chest for want of a better place, D peered at Chris's version of his family, smiling at crude drawing in fond reverie. Father, mother, brother, sister, and grandfather – the perfect family for a seven-year-old with a few lingering emotional problems and the inability to speak aloud. The perfect family, indeed. D smiled, forlorn. He had missed that feeling so dreadfully much these last few years, but one could _not_ go back. This scrap of paper, tattered and creased, had been his own precious memento, but, sadly, he had lost it during the explosion. Not that he had forgotten it – or them; no, for his nature was such that he remembered all that was lost in vivid detail. Leon watched as D's scarlet fingernail tremulously traced the lines of the drawing. He could have sworn he saw tears welling in those beautiful eyes. The sight gave him back some of his natural assurance.

Leon ducked down to bring his mouth to D's ear and murmured softly, seductively, "It's a fucking _invitation_, D. It has 'Come find me!" written all over it. How could I refuse?"

D's face instantly set into harder lines and he made to step back out of Leon's arms, but the chair effectively blocked his escape. Leon took the opportunity to pull the reluctant Count fully into his embrace, burying his face in D's dark hair, firm lips lightly brushing D's neck. The Count squirmed and pushed futilely against Leon's chest, his strength halved by a weakness he would not admit. He was breathing quite rapidly, face flushed a delicate pink, his usual unflappable mask having slipped away.

"Take your hands off me, Leon! I don't know what you think you're doing, but it is_ not_ welcome!"

"No? Then how about _this_?" Leon kissed D hard on his angry mouth, plunging his tongue deep, effectively stopping any verbal objection. His calloused, sunburnt hands ran slowly down D's trembling body, caressing him with a gentleness that D took note of even as his unwilling mouth was ravaged. For a long cruel moment, D wavered, not responding, his body stiff in Leon's embrace. One heartbeat. Two. Three, and their pulses were tuned, unleashing the madness within. Then finally, at long last, D relented, kissing his dear detective in return, his mouth avid. His fingernails dug into Leon's shoulders as he pressed himself closer, hungry, echoing an embrace of long ago. They glued themselves together, the drawing plastered between them as D was now just as urgent as Leon, his slender fingers spiking Leon's hair, his taut stomach pressed against Leon's growing hardness. It was fierce embrace, the gentleness swept away by an attraction so deep it was cellular, bound in their bones from the moment they met.


	4. Chapter 4

**PSOH Pet Shop Perpetual Chapter 4**

Some uncertain time later, Leon groaned and tore his mouth away, breathing hard, head bowed down on D's shoulder. D felt the urgent erection pressed against his belly and shivered in anticipation as he panted softly in Leon's arms. A long-ignored warmth surged through him, melting the last of his doubts.

When Leon finally got his breath back, he spoke in a tone that allowed no denial.

"You've got yourself a new Pet, D. I'm not taking one fucking step out of this place without you. _Not one._ And _you_, you go nowhere without me – you're on a short leash, you Chinese Houdini." He pulled D closer, resting his chin gently on the silky dark hair, and continued, his voice mellowing but still steely. "You can stuff me in your goddamned suitcase if you have to, but _you will never leave me again_. Never again, you hear me?"

D nodded faintly into the warmth of Leon's throat, odd eyes closed in defeat…and relief. Well, he _had_ tried to resist, but there was such a thing as fate. He had belonged to this man for such a long time; he could not bring himself to turn away again.

Hamlin took this opportunity to escape the breast pocket of Leon's jacket, where he'd nearly met an unpleasant death by squishing, and skitter up to perch on top of Leon's tousled head. He clung and peered nearsightedly around. After a moment the Count leaned back in Leon's arms and smiled up at both of them, his eyes alight with glittering amusement. He ruefully shook his head.

"What if I don't need another Pet, Leon? The Shop is rather full at the moment."

"Then you've got a guard dog, D. Or a lover--- or a _mate_. Whatever you want to call it – I don't give a shit. Somebody has to keep an eye on you and it's going to be me. Get used to it, D, 'cause I'm _not_ leaving."

"I gathered that, Leon. I'm just not quite sure what to do with you now you're here." D's mouth curved in a teasing smile. "For that matter, where will you sleep?"

Leon chuckled in delighted amusement, still reeling at what seemed an easy victory, and set his mouth to D's finely sculpted ear once again. "Where do you think?" His low voice buzzed and the Count swallowed hard, shutting his eyes as Leon dipped his tongue into that delicate orifice. D sighed in sweet resignation. The few objections he had left were none of them likely to halt the inevitable. He may as well stop protesting and enjoy it, since Leon didn't seem like he was going to allow anything else.

Right on cue, Leon dragged his lips down D's long pale neck and nosed his way down D's chest, tonguing nipples through the matte black silk. He kissed the outline of embroidered dragon, and the Count clutched his blonde head tight, tortured and gasping. Practiced fingers slid over D's thighs, and stroked him into hardness through his trousers. The Count lolled back over Leon's arm, knees weak and jittery, overwhelmed by lust. So very delicious, to be touched by this man…so very...necessary.

"Mmm…nhh…oh!"

D shuddered, oblivious with pleasure, making needy noises that drove Leon insane, while Hamlin frantically ran up and down Leon's bent back, seeking safety. Spying the armchair, Hamlin leapt in a herculean effort, scrabbling up its back. He'd never seen his human experience mating season before but he certainly knew enough to get out of the way.

"_D_!" The Count's sweet scent tickled his nose as he feasted, his tongue dampening D's trousers, nimble fingers stroking ever faster. The Count arched in his arms, taut with the burgeoning fullness of his crotch, tears of pleasure seeping down his cheeks.

"Ah…Leon, _Leon_!"

Leon stopped the sound with his mouth, swallowing D's final cry of satisfaction.

Hamlin had to leap once again when D's knees gave way completely and he collapsed gently down on the chair, Leon following to crouch over him like a ravening beast. Hamlin took refuge on the tea table, happy to find cake, and did his best to ignore the sounds of ripping silk, scraping zippers and throaty groans.

****

"-aid. Leon, do you remember?" Leon was almost asleep; the Count's soft question prodded him back to wakefulness. They were lying entwined on the Count's enormous four-poster bed, satiated for the moment, drowsing in the late morning sunshine.

"Remember what?" Leon asked, not opening his eyes. He ruffled D's hair and kissed his forehead, trying to pet him back to sleep.

"The Mermaid, Leon. Do you remember her?" D stared at him intently, unblinking.

There was a pause while Leon sorted his mental Rolodex.

"Evangeline Blue?"

"No, no, the other one, Leon, the one we met on our vacation with Chris. Shino's Mermaid." The Count was obviously not about to let this go, so Leon tried harder to concentrate. Who was this Shino, again? Trying to remember that gave him the light-headed feeling he always got when he thought about that trip. He'd been called a hero – that had been weird. And he had been told there was a volcano. Pity he didn't remember it. He did recall the Count's version of a swimsuit, but very little else. There was something about red flowers, he thought, but his brain shied away when he tried to recall details.

"Leon?" D prompted.

"Umm, no, I don't think so. I don't think I _can_, D. All I remember is _you_. And something about red flowers and ..and…maybe cake."

"I see. Cake." D sounded perplexed. "Then, Leon, _why_ did you come? If you do not remember what happened there, why would you ever look for me?"

"'Cause I love you, asshole. Jeez, that's simple. Why else would I spend nearly 3 fucking years seasick and sunburned?"

"But you _shouldn't_. She made you forget." D's voice was fretful. "There's no reason—"

"_She_ didn't make me forget that, whoever the hell _she_ was. Hell, I didn't even realize I was in love with you till after you took off, D. That was what, a year later, right? It doesn't make sense, some woman making me forget what I didn't know in the first place."

"Mermaid, Leon, not 'some woman'. And you _knew_, Leon. You did know. You even asked me to help you remember….which I am trying to do, but without much success." D sat up, clutching his head, and Leon idly stroked his bare back.

"Well, does it really matter, D? In the long run, I mean? So what if I forgot one little vacation. We're together now and that's what counts." Leon watched D for a moment, searching for a way to cheer him, 'cause he looked vaguely disappointed.

"Hey, maybe my body remembered for me, you know? 'Cause I do seem to know all your sweet spots and I sure as hell didn't track you down just to arrest you. Think about _that_." Leon grinned at the frustrated Count, a hint of swagger in his attitude.

Defeated, D lay back down and sighed heavily. Leon pulled him close again and there was silence in the room for several moments.

"Oddly enough, I think you may be correct, Leon." D sounded as though he had considered it thoroughly. "You _did_ forget, I am positive of that, but I often wondered afterwards if perhaps you still harbored some memory, even if it was incomplete. The way you looked at me sometimes---" He stopped himself, blushing. "Well, I suppose memory is not the only ruler of emotion. I wonder if she realized."

"It's got nothing to do with it, D. It's the _heart _that counts. Look, if you actually added up all those times I came to your Shop, it's kinda obvious it wasn't for the tea and cake or even my little bro'. I wanted to see _you_, pure and simple. Wanted to, needed to, whatever. It was necessary to me. _You _were necessary, even if I didn't get half of what you talked about or a tenth of what went on in there. Hell, I thought you running drugs, D. Selling kids. Not like that fucking mattered, though, 'cause I was still there every single goddamned day."

"It _did_ matter, Leon. You were more often angry than not as I remember it. And _my _memory, at least, is completely intact."

"So, what about this Mermaid?" Leon asked, deftly turning the subject. "What'd I forget? Something good?"

The Count blushed beet red and buried his face in the pillow. "I can't tell you that!" His embarrassed voice was muffled by satin-covered down. Leon chuckled. D could be cute --when he wasn't being so damned annoying!

"Come on, D." Leon coaxed. "You just said you'd help me remember, right? So, help me." A firm palm turned D's chin till he was facing Leon again, still blushing furiously.

"I will _not_ speak of that night, Leon! I'd appreciate it if you didn't force me." His frown was fierce but there was no real menace behind it.

"Then show me, D." Leon invited, running the finger across D's kiss-swollen lips. "Let your body do the talking, hmm? You don't have to say a single word if you don't want to…I bet I can guess." He rolled closer, bringing their bodies together. D realized with shock that Leon wasn't the slightest bit tired.

"You...you _pervert_--! Stop that!" But Leon didn't stop.

"Did we do this?" He suckled D's nipples, nipping gently. "Or this?" he asked, trailing hot wet kisses down D's abdomen.

"Stop! Don't do that--!" D gasped out as Leon's mouth wrapped around the tip of his half-hard cock, causing it to swell and grow. D's hips began to rock in ancient rhythm as Leon sucked and licked him, fingers clenched on the sheets, lips compressed to keep from crying out. Shaking his head at D's passiveness, Leon slid his warm length up D's unresisting body, slipping a strong arm around him and prying his nails off the comforter with other hand. With a grunt he pulled the Count over to lie sprawled on top of him, and then firmly tugged D upright. He liked this position best, 'cause he could watch the expressions that crossed that gorgeous face, every one miles better than that fake smile.

D sat atop him, eyes glazing over with embarrassment and growing passion and Leon stroked his smoothness with delicate fingers, till D was squirming. Taking a deep breath and regaining some of his usual aplomb, the Count in turn ran teasing nails down Leon's chest, pausing to twist his nipples. Leon groaned and grinned and grasped D's cock once again, stroking it mercilessly till D cried out with pleasure, his thin cum spraying Leon's chest. Leon grinned, loving it. But this was all very familiar, somehow.

"I'm thinking you probably did _that_, D," he teased. "And then I must have done _this._"

Leon dampened his fingers in D's cum and slid one with gentle force into D, the other hand squeezing a firm buttock.

"Uhhh! Leon!"

The Count's eyes had snapped open when Leon spoke, now they slid slowly shut and he arched back, wriggling his knees apart, giving Leon full access. Leon held him steady and continued drubbing D's ass, inserting more fingers as the Count moaned and made unconscious little sounds of pleasure. It excited Leon immensely, the knowledge that he was the only one in the world - any world - who could make the self-possessed Count mad for his touch. Just watching the sensual D succumb to his eager hands and mouth made Leon rock hard and ready to cum himself.

D was a different man when he was aroused – innocent but strangely knowing, eager for Leon's hands, his mouth, his cock. He gave Leon back every passionate kiss, every little love bite, till he could bear it no longer and begged to be taken, an animal in heat. Leon had done this gladly three times already and he was more than ready for one more round. Rousing D from his lustful languor, he guided D's hips just so and shoved himself deep into the warmth, still slick with his own cum. D's face convulsed at each thrust and he swiveled his hips down to meet Leon's, fingernails scraping Leon's chest, on and on, ever faster and harder, till they both climaxed.

Leon pulled him down to kiss him deeply and lingeringly, and D smiled, odd eyes glittering with warm emotion. They relaxed, sated, and the Count nuzzled sleepily into Leon's damp chest, almost boneless in the aftermath of pleasure.

Sleep had nearly claimed them when Leon whispered, "D?"

"Hmm?"

"This is weird, but I gotta ask. Can we have kids?"

"_Wha--?_ _Children_?! What are you saying, Leon – that's not possible!" The Count was wide awake now, rearing up to stare down at Leon as if he had multiple heads.

"No, no, D, _think about it_. Your dad, Count D, he had that baby just before he died – the one Q-chan took with him. And he must have had you at some point. There's gotta be chance I can get you pregnant – or whatever it is for you guys."

"Oh, my," D sounded dazed and amazed. "Oh my….!"

Leon smiled hugely at his lover's astonished face and hauled him back down, their damp bodies sticking together. Wearily, still smiling, he stroked the silken hair and felt D's breathing slow as he slipped into sleep. He, himself, was close to passing out from exhaustion, but something was buzzing around his head. Scraps of scenes from his various dreams, scarlet flowers and a dark scented night, faintly gilded by the crescent moon, the one he loved beyond death beneath him, moaning and mewling with passion, matching his every movement willingly, joyfully. The one he loved, his mate, _his_. And now he could see –_knew_-- that face very, very well.

"D. D, I remember…" Leon said, sleep clouding his voice. "I remember _you_."

******


	5. Chapter 5

**PSOH Pet Shop Perpetual Epilogue**

It was late afternoon when Leon opened his eyes to find an embroidered canopy above his head. Disoriented, he sat up with a jerk, causing the sleeping man beside him to sigh and snuggle deeper beneath the comforter. Leon sighed himself, but with heart-felt relief, and looked around the Count's bedroom. He'd never been in that holy-of- holy before today and he was curious. He spied an open suitcase on a folding stool under one window and against the opposite wall a large lacquered armoire, neatly shut. Silver brushes lay on an inlaid pearwood dressing table, glinting in the late afternoon light. The carpet was an Arabian jungle of vines and flowers and a desk stood under the other window, a green-glass-and-brass banker's lamp above it. Oil paintings and framed sepia photos hung on the walls. There were no clocks, no TVs, no phones and Leon didn't expect them. It was peaceful room, warm and spacious, much larger than it should be given the apparent size of the shop. He expected that too. After all, he'd been conditioned against surprise these last few years – it would take a fair amount to get him now.

The door inched open. Leon knew it was Pon-chan almost before he saw her golden curls. With a cry of joy she ran toward the bed.

"Leon, Leon! Is it really you?!? Where's Chris? Is he here, too? Oh, Leon – I am so glad to see you! We all missed you so much!"

Laughing in delight, Orcot scooped her up, careful of her frilly dress, and hugged her. He sat her gently on the side of the bed, where she kicked her legs with excitement, covering her mouth in surprise when she saw that D was there too. The commotion woke D, who rolled over and smiled sleepily at Pon-chan's excited face, until he realized he was stark naked under the covers. Speechless, he slithered down further under the comforter, wildly motioning for Leon to hand him the silk robe draped over the end of the bed.

Leon and Pon-chan chatted, catching up, backs safely turned while the Count made himself presentable. With a sheepish smile, the oddest expression Leon had ever seen on D's face, the Count reassured Pon-chan that Leon was indeed here to stay and firmly ushered her out the door, promising dinner in an hour. Happy as a clam, Pon-chan rushed off to tell the others, giggling at Tetsu's likely reaction. D sagged against the door, evidently worn out with embarrassment, so Leon had to come and scoop him up, tossing him gently on the bed. Smiling, they lay nose to nose, quite possibly the happiest fools in Japan, until D could no longer bear the touching-not touching and teased Leon's mouth into a kiss.

Dinner was very late.

*****

Some years after, the two of them were seen strolling through Nikko Edo Village, holding the sticky hands of a small boy who skipped and bounced between them. He was barely more than a toddler, with spiky blonde hair and odd-colored eyes, one violet and one golden-amber. Pink icing was smeared on his face, the obvious aftermath of some special treat. Curious onlookers hid their smiles at the odd sight of a raccoon perched on the back of a small goat, trotting just behind; the raccoon unsuccessfully and repeatedly attempting to wipe clean the boy's smiling face.

END


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